Mitch Hedberg's best joke

Mark Peters has a wonderful column at McSweeney's Internet Tendency on the "Best Joke Ever." Today's is on Mitch Hedberg, and it crystallizes one of his unique points, over and above his creativity. Hedberg's delivery and countenance - his eye-contact avoiding shades and hair, how his body almost folded into itself - allowed for "joke" telling, as opposed to a routine. He made the audience forgive his embrace of the joke, a seeming holdover from another time, as there was almost a sense that he might leave the stage at any time. He spoke in a drone, but it was an A chord that resolved back to the E. 

Peters might be right that the broken escalator is his best joke, as much as it wholly integral and can be removed from his performance context to be retold by virtually anyone, but I don't know if it's the best thing he ever said. I'm partial to his ethnographic description of the stand-up performance (it's prefaces my chapter on the stage in A Vulgar Art):

“Some people think I’m high on stage
I would never get high before a show
because when I’m high
I don’t wanna stand in front of a bunch of people I don’t know [L]
that does not sound comfortable [L]
like when you’re high and a joke doesn’t work it’s extra scary
it’s like | whoa what the hell happened there [L]
I am retreating within myself [L]
why have all these people gathered [L]
and why am I elevated [L]
why am I not facing the same way as everyone else [L]
and what is this electric stick in my hand | [L]
I like the way
this is situated here
it seems like you guys were chasing me
closing in
and then said | fuck it let’s sit down |”

Watch it here: he closes with it but the entire routine is worth watching. And it's only five minutes: like you're such hot shit you can't spare five minutes?

Linda Dégh

Linda Dégh passed away yesterday. I feel lucky to have undergone one of the great rites of passage of modern folklore: being taken to task slash eviscerated by her in a public forum. It's the opening paragraph of A Vulgar Art:

“At the Perspectives on Contemporary Legend meeting in Logan, Utah, I was presenting some of these ideas, in particular noting – what I thought innocently – a similarity between what was au courant in legendry research and what I had noticed about stand-up comedy (Brodie 2007a). After a brace of encouraging questions, Linda Dégh asked the inevitable, inimitable question, “What does this have to do with folklore? This is not folklore! This is show business!””

That was my first encounter with her. We met several times since, and every time she didn't remember me, because, in the world of folklore, standing next to her, who the fuck was I? It's okay: being forgotten by her was not insulting. She was old as the hills. Her former students (many of them full professors) treated her with a blend of fear and awe, and her aura sent them right back to nervous first-year undergraduate status. As trite as the inevitable "we have a true legend with us today" introduction was, there was a swirl of stories associated with her, not all flattering, and not to be repeated here. But there were good odds that she would never, ever die. Without a wooden stake and some garlic, at least.

So, rest in peace, you terrifying, awesome broad.